I’ve written pages about E, but never those that reveal our dynamic best. Those, I will never expose. Not until I find someone who is equally trustworthy, because E compelled me to reveal every tiny scrap of my shame. His acceptance made the world split into two pieces. Nothing looked the same after that.
In many ways, connection is the soul of the power dynamic. It’s in that space that submission shifts and widens and challenges itself. It’s where dominance finds a balance between what is demanded and what is nurtured. If you’re like me, intimacy is the hardest thing you’ll ever try. To let another person see you completely, even those secrets you’re damned sure will make him leave, is the fabric of BDSM for me. It’s why I romanticise power dynamics as much as I do: they’ve taught me that I’m acceptable, even with these rough, eroded places and all this ash.
The mental side of power exchange is where the skin comes off and all your secrets spill out. I’m a natural hider in relationships. Exposure terrifies me, but D/s can’t exist without it. How can a man play with power if he doesn’t know me intimately?
I’m often asked why I don’t speak much about the traditional aspects of power exchange. I’m not one for rope, but I adore S&M too much to live without it. Lay it next to the mental side of power exchange, though, and it begins to look inadequate. Traditional BDSM is bread and butter to me. Psychic power exchange is jade and diamonds.
E took a woman who had hidden from the world all her life and broke her open. He met all my fear and proved to me that the more I showed him, the more he had to love.
Sex takes on a whole new colour when that much trust is in play. Yes, the acceptance is potent, but that’s the very reason it makes kink so compelling. With no reason to pretend, all the sweat and tears become rose petals. I see him. He sees me. No separation can survive that.